


Measure

by unsettled



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monday rolls around, and honestly, after the week he's had, he seriously considers not showing for drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Measure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theswearingkind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theswearingkind/gifts).



> I hope this ends up being something like the thing you wanted most!

He laughs, protests a little when Mumbles points out Bertie, thinks it's a joke at first. Then Mumbles says that magic word – informer – and his attention snaps on. He can see the way that ridiculous queen's looking at him, has been looking at him all night; he can play that. 

He's going along, giving Bertie just enough to keep the flirting going, when Bertie asks him, ever so slightly condescending, how he knows about such things. _Enough is enough_ , he thinks, _I've got your measure now_ , and switches it up. Loses his little smile, loses the teasing note in his voice, actually looks at Bertie for once, and knows he's nailed it when Bertie hands him his phone, all the flirtatiousness gone from his face, replaced with a wide eyed nervousness. That's fun, that is, the tinge of fear as Bertie stares at him, the way he sinks back into obedience. 

Fun indeed.

*

Monday rolls around, and honestly, after the week he's had, he seriously considers not showing for drinks. Stares at the text from Bertie for a long, long time before replying with a simple, _be there at seven_ , then almost instantly changes his mind. _Forget that_ , he texts, _forget the drinks. I'll be at your place at seven._ He doesn't even open the reply. 

Bertie's got that half scared, half excited, all longing expression on again when he opens the door. "Gonna invite me in?" Bob asks, makes it a challenge. 

"I thought," Bertie starts as Bob brushes past him, and Bob turns into him, presses him back against the wall, not fast or rough but firmly, a little reminder. 

"Yeah, Bertie?" he says, quietly, right up against Bertie's ear. "What were you thinking? Think of talking?" He can't see Bertie's face, but he knows what it must look like, hears him swallow. "You really want to waste time talking?"

"No?" Bertie says, faintly, and for all he seems to want to play with the wild bunch, he doesn't know what to do with one of them. 

"I didn't think so," Bob says, smiles, a smile that's too much a smirk. Steps away and invites himself in, takes a look around. Bertie's got a nice place, nice stuff, no real surprise there. He lets his fingers trail over an assortment of pretty, expensive toys, and watches Bertie out of the corner of his eyes as he follows, watching Bob like he's mesmerized. 

He opens a door and finds the bedroom, has to have a chuckle at the stupidly large bed. "Come here," he tells Bertie as he settles his back against the frame of the door, and catches at the buttons of Bertie's shirt as he reels him in, Bertie nearly falling against him in his eagerness. Kisses him, finally, and Bertie’s mouth is soft, lush, tasting faintly of something fruity and alcoholic. He kisses Bob – not gently, but softly, carefully, like he's settling to learn Bob's mouth, and Bob can feel the curve of his smile when he catches Bertie's bottom lip between his teeth for a second, lightly. "Yeah?" he says, teasing a little. 

"Oh, yes," Bertie whispers back, and when Bob pushes, opens his mouth, their kisses growing more heated, eager, the slick slide of Bertie's tongue against his startling a huff of laughter out of him, wet and hot, Bertie's hands curled into Bob's shirt. Bob fiddles with the buttons of Bertie's shirt until he gets enough of them undone to slip his hand in, running it down Bertie's side. Bertie jumps, moans faintly into his mouth. 

Bob pulls back, feels a hungry pleasure at the sight of Bertie's reddened lips. Gives Bertie a little push, and when he steps away, looking faintly dazed, pulls his own shirt over his head. Bertie stares at him, mouth slightly open, just begging to be kissed. "Well come on then," Bob says, and takes Bertie’s hands, presses them to his stomach. Bertie shivers, sliding his hands up Bob's chest. Bob pulls him back in, kisses him, deeper this time, his hand cupping the back of Bertie's head, keeping him still. "Put your hands to use, why don't you," he breathes out, and Bertie’s hands fall to his trouser buttons.

"I have a bed, you realize," Bertie says, his voice all breathy. _Nice_ , Bob thinks. Hums in agreement.

"And when I’m ready to use it, we will," he replies. Tangles his fingers in Bertie’s hair and pushes him down, until Bertie is kneeling before him, one hand wrapped around his thigh, the other still caught in Bob's waistband. "Show me what else your pretty mouth is good for," Bob tells him, and Bertie nearly whimpers before he's pulling out Bob's cock, wrapping his lips around it. And fuck, yeah, Bertie's mouth is definitely good for something more than talking. 

He lets him get on with that for a few minutes, hands wrapped tight in Bertie’s hair, relishing the warm, wet slide of Bertie's mouth as he lazily thrusts into it, little short movements that make Bertie gasp fro breath and clutch at him. "Fuck, you've got some mouth on you," Bob says, and Bertie's eyes dart up to his, huge in his flushed face. 

After another wonderful minute passes, he pulls him off with a faint slick sound, Bertie's lips shiny and wet. "I think it's time to give that bed a bit of attention," he says, "and get rid of you clothes." He steps out of his pants as Bertie scrambles to finish undressing himself. He's soft all over, lean enough but soft, the kind of man that spends most of his time sitting. He feels different under Bob's hands. 

This isn't really what he's used to, what he usually goes for. Bob's numerous one night stands are generally rougher, tough guys with enough muscle to give him a run for his money, pushy enough that sex is sometimes more like sparring, both of them taking and taking and taking, pushing back at each other for more. Guys like One Two, if he's going to be honest with himself. Not soft, pliant men like Bertie, who is eager and pliant and giving underneath him, a certain vulnerability on his face that Bob seldom sees from anyone. 

Bertie moans as Bob thrusts his fingers into his tight hole, moans and twists and lets out breathy little gasps into Bob's mouth and Bob thinks, with some surprise, that Bertie is actually quite beautiful like this. "Yeah?" he says, again, not teasing this time, but still not asking. "You want something, then, Bertie boy?"

"Oh, please, please," Bertie nearly whines, and spreads his legs a little further apart, thrusts his hips up a little, cock bobbing and wet with precome. "Please, Bob." 

Bob bites back a moan of his own, cock twitching. "Good answer," he says, and this time the rasp in his voice isn't put on. 

When he slides into Bertie, he has to stop for a moment. Lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment while he just breathes, pants, really, a moment of fragility he'd never let any of his other pretty boys see. Bertie can see it though, because Bertie isn't going to push back, he thinks. Will just take it for what is is, and perhaps even be grateful for it. So he closes his eyes and just lets himself feel the heat and tightness and tiny movements of Bertie's body as he shivers underneath Bob, fingers clutching at Bob's arms. Just feel it, for a moment, and then, then he moves. Pulls out and fucks back into Bertie, who tosses his head back and groans, hips shifting against Bob, his voice catching every time Bob shoves fully in. Bertie just opening to him like this, just letting him take, asking for it even, is as much a turn on as anything, and Bob leans forward as he feels himself climb higher and higher, closer to the edge, leans forward and kisses Bertie, sloppy now, wet and rough and catching all the small sounds Bertie makes until they aren't small at all, harsh cries as he comes, Bob's hand wrapped around his cock as he shoots off. Bob slams forward a few more times as Bertie tightens around him, until its too much, until he too is coming, head bowed and pressed into Bertie's sweaty skin as he moans and comes apart at the seams.


End file.
